


Fairy Tale

by kafrickinboom



Series: Voltron WLW Month [28]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - The Frog Prince Fusion, Curse Breaking, F/F, Genderbending, I'm Bad At Summaries, No Voltron, VLD WLW Month, Voltron WLW Month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafrickinboom/pseuds/kafrickinboom
Summary: “You’re missing the point entirely. Okay, so what if the frog was...a rabbit, or a squirrel, or a dog?” Hunk raises his brow, and Landa chews slowly, tapping her lips in contemplation.“I mean, maybe? Sounds like an elaborate excuse to be a furry though,” Landa jokes after she swallows, and Hunk throws his hands up in the air like he just can’t believe that this is his friend, which...rude.





	Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a semi-modern setting? I don't really know exactly when I'd place this, but it's modern enough for Landa to fly a model airplane, so...I don't know.
> 
> Language notes:  
> nieta - granddaughter  
> arroz con pollo - a bomb chicken and rice dish that I could probably live on for the rest of my life  
> Dios mio - my God

“And so she bestowed upon that slimey, spotted frog a kiss, transforming him into a handsome prince, and they lived happily ever after.” 

“I would never, ever, in my entire life,  _ ever _ kiss a frog,” Landa retorts as she brushes her hair, and Hunk sighs at her like she’s ridiculous, putting the book down. Which,  _ what? _ Frogs are cute to look at and all, but they’re a cesspool of bacteria, and these lips will  _ not _ pucker up for that salmonella fest for anything. She pauses in her grooming to pop a strawberry in her mouth

“You’re missing the point entirely. Okay, so what if the frog was...a rabbit, or a squirrel, or a dog?” Hunk raises his brow, and Landa chews slowly, tapping her lips in contemplation.

“I mean, maybe? Sounds like an elaborate excuse to be a furry though,” Landa jokes after she swallows, and Hunk throws his hands up in the air like he just can’t believe that this is his friend, which... _ rude. _ He should know by now how Landa is, especially about fairytales. Even though she’s well aware that magic is real, she’s never been one for the big, fantastical stories that end in love and sunshines and rainbows. She doesn’t believe in finding your One True Love from a random amphibian just chilling out in a well, and she definitely doesn’t believe in destiny. Not after her parents divorced, causing a massive royal scandal, and shipped her off to live with her grandfather at least, so Hunk can honestly just take the judgment elsewhere.

“The  _ point _ is that sometimes you have to kiss a frog to find your prince.” When Landa gives him a flat look, he adds, “or princess.”

Landa rolls her eyes so hard, her head follows their path. “The issue is not the gender. I just have higher standards than finding a date in a magical amphibian...or quote-on-quote ‘frogs’ of men.” 

Hunk just sighs.

\---

One day, Landa is walking around the courtyard of her Abuelo’s house, flying her model plane around the edge of the treeline. She absolutely adores planes and flying and hopes one day she herself could be a pilot someday as well (regardless of her Abuelo’s insistence that royal women aren’t meant to fly). She’s gotten so good with her model planes that she likes to think of herself as a ‘tailor’ because of how great she is at ‘threading the needle’- the thread being her model airplane, and the needle being the branches of the trees.

Of course, as soon as she thinks it and as soon as her smile grows smug, her plane crashes into the highest of branches, basically invalidating her self-given title. She frowns as she looks at the tree it landed in. The lowest branches are just too high up for her to climb onto, and the same goes for the trees surrounding it. Regardless, she’s not entirely sure she wouldn’t plummet to one hell of an unpleasant death if she even tried putting her weight on those branches at the tippy top of the damned tree anyway.

She slumps, forlornly sighing as she sits in front of the edge of the forest, staring at her model. That’s her favorite plane. Papá had given it to her before he and Mama divorced, and now she’s gone and gotten it stuck where she can’t possibly get it. Big, fat tears spill down her cheeks before she even registers the burning behind her eyes, and she angrily swipes them away. She’s not a baby anymore, and she shouldn't be getting weepy over something so childish as a toy anyway.

“Why are you crying, princess?” A voice sounds from somewhere in the forest and Landa’s head snaps up, her eyes darting around to try and determine where the voice came from. She spots a few bluebirds in the trees, a cat as black as midnight a few yards away from her, a pair of tiny chipmunks playing in the yard, and a grey squirrel darting into its burrow...but no human. She rubs at her eyes, shaking her head at herself. She must be imagining things.

...That is, she thinks so until the question is asked again. The cat she dismissed is slinking up to her, its violet eyes more intent than what Landa would expect from a regular cat, and Landa has to pinch herself for a moment to make sure she isn’t dreaming. 

She swears the thing sighs, its eyes rolling a bit before giving her a flat look (can regular cats even do that?). “I’m real. Now, why are you crying?” It says as it tilts its head.

“I, uh, my plane is stuck up there,” she says pointing to the object in question, and the cat follows her line of sight, a little  _ tsk, tsk, tsk _ escaping its mouth as it looks back. “Whose cat are you?”

“I’m no one’s cat.” It says testily before glancing up at the tree. “I can get it back for you if you do something for me,” it says, looking into Landa’s eyes as it comes closer to her crossed legs. When Landa raises a finely manicured brow, it continues, “love me, let me live with you and eat off your royal plate, and let me sleep on your bed, and I swear I’ll get it for you.”

Landa scoffs, rolling her eyes, “oh, is that all?”

But the cat seems to be serious. There’s no laugh, no brush off, no indication she’s joking in the slightest. Landa looks back up at the model airplane. There’s no way the cat will be able to make it all the way up there. She couldn’t even get to the first branch, but...that thing  _ is _ valuable to her, at least in a sentimental sense, and it couldn’t hurt to have the thing try, right? Besides, it’s not as if she has to tell the cat that she doesn’t actually believe in love anymore. She’ll just gain a pet if this all works out. 

“Fine. I’ll do it. One question first: how did you know I’m a princess?” Landa asks, her brow furrowing, and she might be her imagination, but the cat looks like it’s mirroring it, its eyes flicking toward the estate behind her. 

“You  _ are _ Landa García, aren’t you?” It asks, and Landa has a fleeting thought that maybe she should ask the cat its name so she could determine whether to call it a ‘he’ or a ‘she’ or even a ‘they,’ since the voice is too smoky, too androgynous to make out what’s going on with that, but in her surprise, she just nods. “Okay then. I’m going to retrieve your plane now. Just stay here.”

She watches as the cat easily books it up the tree, using its claws in the bark to propel her further up in the branches until Landa can’t see it anymore. She purses her lips, annoyed that she couldn’t just do it herself and had to resort to the help of a strange  _ cat _ to help her out. 

“Landa!” Her grandfather’s voice echoes from the estate house and she stands up quickly, calling back that she’d be there in a moment.

Within a minute, the cat is back with her model plane, and she’s so overcome with joy that she picks it up and runs back to her grandfather’s beckoning, completely forgetting the promise she’d made not more than a few minutes before. 

\---

The next day, as she sits down for dinner, a sudden sweep of hair or- is that  _ fur _ rubbing against her ankle? She ignores her Abuelo’s amused eyes as she looks under the tablecloth only to find the same black cat from yesterday. She gasps, quickly sitting up in alarm. She completely forgot about the damned thing.

“What is it,  _ nieta?” _ Her grandfather asks, his eyes searching her blank expression.

“I...may have promised this cat that I’d let it live with me if it got my plane back...and it did.” Landa winces as Abuelo sighs.

“You gave your word?” He asks, and when she nods, he nods as well. “You must always keep your word. It can stay.”

And with that, the cat seems to take it as permission to jump on Landa’s lap, turning to raise its unimpressed eyes at her. She rolls her eyes at the sheer amount of judgment in them before graciously (re: admittedly sarcastically) apologizing. 

“May I eat from your plate as you also promised?” The cat sasses at her, and Abuelo’s brows almost reach his hairline as Landa sticks her tongue out at it, pulling the plate closer so it could pick off some  _ arroz con pollo. _ The thing ate like it hasn’t had a proper meal in  _ weeks, _ and she would tease it if she was sure it had. Judging by the thinness of its body, it most likely hasn’t. Landa frowns down at it as she hesitantly runs a hand over its back, the corners of her lips pulling down further as she feels just how knobby its spine is. The cat tenses for a moment, freezing in place until Landa takes her hand off of it.

Afterward, she offers to carry the cat to her room, but it declines, choosing to follow after her instead. It jumps up on the pillow beside her own, turning away when Landa changes into her nightclothes. Landa has the feeling that if this cat was actually a person, it would be blushing to its ears and she can’t help but coo.

“You’re really cute, you know?” Landa smiles down at its wide eyes.

It snorts when it snaps out of it, mumbling a quiet, “thank you.”

Landa smiles as she turns out the light.

\---

When she wakes up the next day, she can’t seem to find the cat anywhere. She searches throughout her room, the bathroom, the halls, the kitchen, even Abuelo’s room, but the thing isn’t anywhere to be found. Maybe it changed its mind?

She doesn’t even acknowledge the sharp twist in her chest at the thought, nor does she acknowledge her own mopey mood throughout the day, and she  _ definitely _ doesn’t acknowledge the relief that washes over her when the cat returns that night for dinner and bed.

This happens for an entire  _ week- _ Landa wondering just where the hell the cat goes during the day, feeling reassured when it comes back each night. 

The cat avoids any and all topics that stray too close to personal information. It refuses to tell Landa its name, just laughs when Landa asks for its gender (Landa’s sick of referring to her newfound friend as  _ ‘it’), _ changes the subject entirely when she asks about her past, and sticks to the present. Stuff like what its favorite foods are (Landa’s surprised to hear the cat has a taste for kimchi), its favorite color (red), its favorite holiday (Christmas, though it’s apparently not religious...which for some reason, Landa finds that hilarious), etc. They talk about how the cat feels about the state of the world, and what it wants from life, and general philosophical questions (this thing is way deeper than Landa had ever expected it to be). Landa learns the cat has a thing for the stars, and sometimes they sit in the little reading nook by the window with Landa tracing constellations with her fingers. (Every time she looks back at the cat to see if it’s paying attention, she just catches it turning its head like it  _ wasn’t _ just watching her or something. What a dork.)

They certainly talk about Landa’s life a lot though. At first, she was apprehensive to open up fully to a cat that wouldn’t fully open up to her, but by the fourth day, Landa said, ‘fuck it,’ telling the cat about the happier days of her childhood, when she and her parents would spend time together (when Papá wasn’t busy with foreign affairs and Mama wasn’t busy with volunteer efforts and whatnot). She regales stories of her limelight years, when the country cooed over how beautiful she was with her chocolate-colored curls and bright, blue eyes, the promise of the future or whatever before the scandal of her parents’ divorce ripped through the country. Things have settled down now that it’s been a couple of years, and she’s apparently still set to be queen one day, but the scars of her parents’ split caused Landa a lot of pain. She told the cat everything, and she still isn’t quite sure why.

Each time Landa delved deep into the personal, and especially when the tears sprung unbidden, the cat would come closer, laying its head on her arm or even going as far as to sit in her lap, purring in some attempt to comfort her. Landa, being one to rarely resist temptation, always scooped the cat up and pressed her face into its fur, greedily taking in the solace it offered. After night number five, the cat stopped freezing in place every time she touched it.

Landa now thanks the fates that she failed so spectacularly to ‘thread the needle’ that day just a week ago. She smiles as she rests her hand on the cat’s side, letting herself drift into the land of dreaming.

\---

When she wakes up the next day, she immediately knows something isn’t right. For one, she  _ knows _ she tied her hair up last night and yet when she opens her eyes, there’s a black mass of it in her face (and her hair isn’t  _ that _ dark, so what the hell). For two, the dip in the bed behind her is much deeper than a cat should make. For three, there’s a strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to an unknown person. 

As soon as the last thought filters through her mind, her body goes completely rigid, each muscle tensing so hard, it almost hurts. Her eyes fly wide, breathing deeply, slowly, trying her level best not to just start hyperventilating right then and there. She untangles her fingers from this mystery person’s hand bit by bit until they’re free  _ (which, what in the actual hell, self. She apparently has no self-preservation). _ She gently scoots out from under this intruder’s hold inch by inch.

Or well, she tries to, but as soon as her body detaches from the warmth behind her, the arm tightens, hauling her backward hard enough to make her squeak. She slaps a hand over her mouth as the person yawns, nuzzling into the back of her hair, and  _ fuck, _ is she terrified.

“Mm...Landa?” The cat says, from directly behind her, but-  _ wait. What?! _

“.....Cat?” Landa whispers back, and the trespasser nods into her hair with an affirmative sound, only to belatedly go stock still, a questioning noise sleepily sounding from her throat.

“I-it worked,” the mystery person- possibly Landa’s  _ cat friend- _ breathes, sitting up suddenly. Landa has absolutely no excuse for feeling oddly bereft as she turns around, and-

_ Immediately _ blushes. Holy  _ shit. _ In her panic, she didn't realize the person wrapped around her was  _ naked. _ She averts her eyes as she blindly pulls the blanket up over this  _ woman’s _ breasts.

“Oh! Sorry. I kind of forgot about...clothes…” The new woman trails off, and when Landa meets her wide, apprehensive eyes  _ (which, excuse Landa, but shouldn’t  _ she _ be the nervous one here?), _ they’re still the vibrant violet shade she remembers from her cat friend. Hey eyes are even  _ catlike. Dios mio. _ Landa’s eyes trail up to her hair, the same midnight black from the cat’s fur. Her voice, too… Landa would recognize that voice anywhere by now, and that is  _ definitely _ the cat’s voice. 

Logically, she can put the pieces of the puzzle together, but that doesn’t mean she understands the image it creates.

_ “What?!” _ Landa eventually shrieks, and they both flinch at the volume. She clears her throat, incredulously asking again, “just what?”

“Uh, hi. I’m Kath.” When Landa snorts, the wom-  _ Kath’s _ thick brows dip confusedly before shaking it off. “Anyway, I was cursed, obviously. To undo the spell, I had to come across a princess who would allow me to help her, let me eat from her plate and sleep with her for seven nights.” She rolls her eyes at Landa’s disbelieving snort. “Trust me, I know how stupid that sounds. The witch that cursed me was very specific for a reason. I’d be stuck like that for...I don’t even know how long. What’s the date?”

Bewildered, Landa checks her nightstand calendar, and when she relays it to Kath, the woman’s pale skin blanches further, making her look more comparable to a specter than an actual person. 

“Are you okay?” Landa asks and Kath’s eyes blink rapidly as she shakes her head.

“No, not really. I’ve been a fucking cat for almost three years now.” Kath admits tersely, fire in her eyes as they flick up to meet Landa’s. (Landa refuses to admit to the fact that her breath caught at the sight of them.) “You’ve broken my curse, and I know-  _ I know _ it hasn't been long, but you’re the first person who’s been kind to me in months, and you’re the first person who’s interested me beyond undoing this damned curse. If, if you’d have me, I’d like to take you to my father’s kingdom, see what’s happened in the time I’ve been gone and perhaps...take my hand in marriage?”

Landa’s jaw drops. She looks around as if people were going to jump out, yelling  _ “surprise!” _ and informing her that this is all one big joke. This  _ can’t _ be her life, can it? 

But...as she looks into Kath’s wide, terrified eyes, she recognizes the same expression in them that she’d seen in the cat’s every time she asked a question about her past. She sees the tense lines in her bare shoulders, in the backs of her hands still grasping the blanket protecting her modesty, in the set of her jaw that clenches further with each passing second of silence. Landa licks her lips as she thinks about it for approximately thirty seconds.

“O-okay. Yes. Yes, I...accept,” Landa says as confidently as she can, her voice shaking at the end as her heart beats a tattoo into the back of her sternum. It settles a great deal when Kath’s intense, serious expression gives away to a slow sunrise smile that Landa is helpless to mirror. 

Never in a million years had she ever thought she’d ever accept  _ anyone’s _ hand in marriage, but as soon as Kath brings Landa’s hand to her lips, she can’t help but wonder how she could ever think she wouldn’t. It may not be The Frog Prince, but she’ll take her Cat Princess over that any day.

\---

Later, when she introduces Kath to Hunk, recounting the story of how they met, he laughs and laughs and laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! <3
> 
> Next up: f!Hunk x Pidge, "Scientist AU"


End file.
